


Aging Gracefully

by Akaiba



Category: Warcraft (2016), World of Warcraft
Genre: Aging, Body Worship, Chubby Khadgar, Declarations Of Love, M/M, Old Age, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7982644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaiba/pseuds/Akaiba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Khadgar threw down his quill in frustration as his hand cramped up in agony. Except, he bemoaned as he used his other hand to try and massage the aching one, it wasn’t simply cramps, was it? His hand was old, his joints were old, his entire body was functioning like he was some far past middle years old man, and there was nothing he could do about it."</p><p>This fic was commissioned by veritasrose, thank you for the lovely commission!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aging Gracefully

**Author's Note:**

  * For [veritasrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritasrose/gifts).



The worse the aging got, the more Khadgar stayed away from his reflection when he could help it. It was still his  _ face _ but it was definitely not the face of seventeen year old mage. His skin bore lines more defined with each passing day, his hair graying at first just at the temples but then eventually the full head was shocks of gray and dulling brown. He could barely sit at his desk for any length of time without feeling aches and pains that he shouldn’t have at all felt at his age. More fool him for having thought he could escape the grip of Fel and a demon unscathed. Of course something had happened. At first it had seemed perhaps shock, or his body’s way of dealing with the tremendous amount of magic he had called upon to fight with, but it had showed no signs of stopping. All Khadgar had managed to do was slow it but there would be no undoing what had been done. 

 

Khadgar threw down his quill in frustration as his hand cramped up in agony. Except, he bemoaned as he used his other hand to try and massage the aching one, it wasn’t simply cramps, was it? His hand was  _ old _ , his joints were  _ old _ , his entire body was functioning like he was some far past middle years _ old _ man, and there was nothing he could do about it.

 

Lothar’s hand moved slow enough so as not to startle what little life from Khadgar that the mage had left, but crept into view from behind Khadgar’s chair as the warrior took the aching hand from Khadgar’s too harsh grip. “What did the quill ever do to you?” It was a teasing, incorrect question. From the way Lothar’s gentler, if more calloused, fingers rubbed the tensed muscles of Khadgar’s hand Lothar knew exactly was wrong. He was as intimately acquainted with Khadgar’s changing body as Khadgar himself was, and he had brushed off with derision all the offers and insistent tantrums that Lothar find someone else as the aging became apparently permanent. 

 

It was as frustrating as it was endearing to listen to Lothar’s refusals to even entertain Khadgar when the mage started trying to offer Lothar ‘an out’ like he was somehow trapped somewhere he didn’t want to be. However, Khadgar couldn’t understand it. Much as he tried to avoid mirrors he wasn’t exactly able to manage it entirely, and in moments alone he was always drawn to looking despite hating what the mirror showed him every time. His body was old, older than Lothar even- a comment Lothar had barked out a laugh at before indignantly insisting he was barely forty- and Khadgar hardly recognised himself sometimes. 

 

“It is not the quill, Anduin,” Khadgar sighed. How Lothar could still look at him and want him just the same was beyond Khadgar’s ability to comprehend, but then Khadgar figured that had more to do with his own perception of himself than how Lothar saw him. Lothar had not changed in how spoke or handled Khadgar, he happily made adjustments when Khadgar’s body would no longer keep up where it once had, but he would not suffer Khadgar’s attempts to hide from him. He would not let Khadgar extinguish the fire and candles when they were intimate, or shield his body in a shirt, and certainly not listen when he insisted that Lothar couldn’t possibly find him attractive still.

 

Lothar hummed thoughtfully, like he understood. Which he couldn’t and Khadgar wouldn’t stomach the sympathy today. He was at the end of his tether and Lothar’s seemingly endless understanding was trying Khadgar’s last nerve. He drew his hand back as he pursed his lips, saying, “I’m not in the mood for another of your lectures about this, so don’t bother.”

 

“I lecture now, do I?” Lothar asked it with such an indulgently raised eyebrow and Khadgar could feel his anger rising at seeing it. 

 

“Yes,” Khadgar bit out, “You do! Like an old mother hen!”

 

“I can see how bothersome that must be for you,” Lothar said, in a manner very clear that he did not at all see how irritating he was sometimes, “for you to have me tell you frequently how much I love and adore you- mind and body- and wished you saw yourself in a similar light.” By the final word, dripping in enough sarcasm as to fall thickly from Lothar’s mouth, Khadgar’s gut was twisting in guilt. The guilt only fed into the anger, however. Who was Lothar to judge how Khadgar felt? As though he could say it was another way enough times and Khadgar would simply stop hating the old man he saw in the mirror. 

 

“Stand up; let me see you,” Lothar demanded, sharply like Khadgar was one of his soldiers.

 

“Do not order me about,” Khadgar snapped back, “I have every right to feel the way I do- do you know people think I am older than you? Who can blame them when I look like _ this _ ?!” He’d meant to surge to his feet in righteous indignation but his body was slow to respond and when it did Khadgar could feel the ridiculous aches of a day spent working at a desk, from his tender rear to the hunched curve of his shoulders.

 

Lothar remained unmoved at the display, his mouth a grim line of tolerance that Khadgar rarely saw him exercise with even the most whiny diplomats. “You hate the way you look,” He surmised and the only answer Khadgar gave was a scornful scoff that it was obvious, “ _ I  _ do not,” Lothar paused a moment to let the statement hit home. When no derisive comment was forthcoming, the warrior continued, “You cannot understand why I don’t hate your body as much as you do, but that isn’t for you to dictate. You are still Khadgar, you are still my sarcastic bookworm, and you are still the infuriatingly stubborn mage I’ve chosen to be with. I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it but do not get angry at me for thinking age looks good on you.”

 

Masked by a stern face it was still Lothar baring his heart, in as gruff a manner as the warrior was able to do so, and Khadgar had no defence for that. It left him dangerously close to crying as his anger was stripped away in the wake of Lothar’s earnesty. He lunged forwards and held Lothar tight, even his full weight only succeeding in rocking the warrior barely a step as Lothar’s hands came up to hold him in return. “I love you,” Khadgar breathed out, only a slight waver to his voice as he buried his face in Lothar’s neck.

 

“I should hope so after that speech,” Lothar teased, startling a laugh from Khadgar that might have been thicker with emotion than Khadgar could admit to. Lothar was patient as Khadgar regained himself but the moment he pulled back enough to do so, Lothar was on him. His mouth suffered no argument as it parted Khadgar’s own mouth and the mage sank into the feel of Lothar kissing him as relentlessly as Lothar did everything in life. 

 

With the kiss distracting Khadgar, Lothar led the mage in slow steps backwards to the bed until he was turning Khadgar to push him gently down the bed. He took a moment to admire the sight Khadgar made like that; sprawled on his back on their bed, one of Lothar’s shirts Khadgar tended to steal bunched at his waist barely affording the mage any decency with his akimbo legs, kiss bruised mouth, and lust blown eyes. It was as pleasing a sight as it had been when Khadgar had his correctly aged body and Lothar was set in his task to make his mage feel every inch of his appreciation. 

 

Khadgar’s eager hands pulled Lothar in by the waist of his trousers until he was braced over the mage and those deft fingers were pushing unashamedly up Lothar’s sleeping shirt to pull it off. Kneeling up to toss the shirt to one side Lothar settled himself lower on Khadgar’s body, just as determined to rid Khadgar of the stolen shirt as he pushed it up to bare Khadgar’s belly. The mage’s stomach had been round and soft long before the aging took place but where the thin trail of coarse hair had once been deep brown, it was now silver as it led down to Khadgar’s cock. Still, it was no less inviting. Lothar’s mouth met the top of Khadgar’s belly in an open kiss and even if Khadgar’s body was slow to respond, the mage himself was not as he locked his legs around Lothar’s chest with all the energy of a much younger man. His cock was stirring but nowhere near hard and, while it frustrated Khadgar endlessly, Lothar appreciated the challenge. Besides, the mage’s soft, thick thighs were one of Lothar’s favourite places to be between so the excuse to spend longer feeling them tremble and shake around him was no hardship.

 

“Shall I do this every time you doubt me?” Lothar murmured against Khadgar’s skin, eyes flicking up to watch the mage bite his lip. Khadgar looked torn for a moment, unsure what he would be agreeing or disagreeing to either way, before settling for no answer at all. “Maybe you are right, that would be positive reinforcement of the wrong thing,” Lothar agreed, speaking between lazy kisses that shifted fractionally lower each time, “Better I do this each and every night so you never have cause to doubt me again.” 

 

A huff of laughter escaped Khadgar, tapering into a pleased sigh as Lothar’s mouth moved low enough to make his stirring cock twitch with interest, “Every night? I think you’re overestimating either of our abilities to keep up with that.”

 

“I take offence at that,” Lothar dragged his teeth along the sensitive underneath of Khadgar’s soft belly, making the flesh jump and twitch as Khadgar squirmed, “but I didn’t mean only sex. Just this…” Lothar let his weight settle more firmly on the bed in the gap Khadgar’s thighs had made for him, his kisses losing their path and wandering in a haphazard fashion over the swell of Khadgar’s stomach before he wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist. Pressing his face into Khadgar’s soft middle, Lothar contently laid down as though he intended to remain exactly as he was for the rest of the night. 

 

It was intimately sweet laying together so wrapped up in each other, and even with Khadgar’s cock still trying valiantly to rise to the occasion it was just as pleasant to feel Lothar’s beard rasping against his stomach and feel the warm warrior atop him. Khadgar had been so focused on all the things he couldn’t do any more that he hadn’t stopped to think on what he could, and maybe acrobatic marathon nights of intimacy were a bit beyond him, but this… this was nice. He didn’t feel like a failure for it either, not with the way Lothar was docilely nestled upon him and murmuring with each drag of Khadgar’s fingers through his hair. 

 

“‘Just this’ is nice too,” Khadgar agreed softly, “but… we can still… you would still want to…?”

 

Lothar lifted his head to give Khadgar a dry look, “Yes, Khadgar. I would still want to lie with you.”

 

“Oh... good,” Khadgar let his head drop back to the bed and away from Lothar’s withering look, “I am glad.” There was a moment’s stillness and as Khadgar began to believe the conversation over in favour of sleep, Lothar’s roughened hand curled loosely around his limp cock. Khadgar’s head jerked up again in surprise, “Whoa, hey, I thought we were just cuddling tonight?”

 

“I changed my mind,” Lothar smirked, “Think you can keep up?” In an obscene show he drew the hand around Khadgar’s cock up to his mouth and licked a broad, sloppy stripe across his palm. Khadgar groaned but offered no protest as the hand returned to his cock with the gentlest of touches that spoke of Lothar’s familiarity in handling his mage. 

 

“If I said ‘no’ would you let me sleep?”

 

Lothar’s hand paused, “You know I would. Is that what you want?” There was no teasing in Lothar’s tone and the seriousness of his answer was appreciated, but Khadgar had grown tired of playing coy tonight. 

 

Khadgar shook his head frantically, “No, Light, no… don’t stop,” he demanded.

 

So Lothar didn’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: akaiba.tumblr.com


End file.
